Kissing Heero
by kodoku
Summary: MM, ZechsxHeero Heero learns that what you need is sometimes the last thing you want.


Author's Note: This is placed post-Endless Waltz, vaguely; it follows no particular timeline. It's short, it's pointless, it exists primarily because I had an idea for a 6x1 scene that ended up not being included... but I'm rather fond of it.

Gundam W is copyright Sunrise, Bandai Visuals, Sotsu Agency, and Asahi TV. Only my obsession with it is my own.

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**Kissing Heero**

The first time she kissed him, they were standing in her study. Breakfast had just been announced and Heero had been turning to confirm her readiness for the meal when Relena's lips had met his. He'd been surprised and uncharacteristically floundering against the press of her mouth; the kiss was nice enough, if disappointingly bland, and after a moment's stillness from Heero Relena pulled away, smiling and mouthing pretty apologies. They'd gone to breakfast and not spoken of it again that day.

More kisses followed as time passed, and Heero learned to appreciate the simple physical appeal. Still, he never initiated a kiss, never encouraged, only took what was offered without holding any desire for more. He'd not realized that Relena might not share his viewpoint until she'd caught his hand and brought it to cup her breast. His current post might not have required the control his time piloting a Gundam had, but he'd lost none of it, and it was all that kept him from jerking his hand away as though he'd been burned. He'd made the excuses that time and spent the rest of the day neck-deep in security code.

After that, the kisses ceased, but in their place Heero found himself the recipient of considering looks, probing enough that the portion of himself still wired for covert operations shuddered. It had taken only a few days for Relena to corner him, armed with questions that he'd not been prepared to answer. In the end, he'd assured her that there was no one else in whom he was interested and that he knew she was available when he was ready. Their routine had settled back into familiar patterns and Heero had contented himself with his self-assigned duty of keeping the hope for pacifism safe.

Then, Milliard had returned from Mars, alone and at loose ends. Relena, aware of the strength of familial solidarity, had wasted no time in offering him a position on her staff. The expected political uproar had spectacularly failed to materialize, and soon enough it was as though Milliard had always been with them, despite the weight of experience behind his words for peace.

The first time he kissed him, they were in the garage. Heero was spending some down time tuning up a car Milliard had picked up somewhere when Milliard had returned from the spaceport. He'd stood by Heero for some time, simply watching the younger man work with a quiet respect that had failed to incite the usual irritation at an audience in Heero. They'd traded some small talk about possible modifications with easy camaraderie and, as Heero had extricated himself from the depths beneath the hood and straightened, Milliard's fingers had pressed beneath his chin to tilt it up and his mouth had lowered over Heero's.

On the basic level, Heero found the kisses of the siblings similar; they both contained confident possessiveness, unhesitating self-assurance, easy control. Where Relena's kisses spoke awkwardly of obligations and duty, though, Milliard's sparked with challenge and a playful invitation for Heero to try to wrest away his dominance. A second kiss had immediately followed the first, and if Milliard minded that Heero's fingers left streaks of grease behind when they slid over his white-clad shoulders he never said.

An hour later, when Heero was sprawled inelegantly over the car's back seat with his and Milliard's come sticky on his fingers, Milliard's kisses spoke to him of understanding and respect beneath the clumsiness of post-coital languor. Love was neither offered nor required, but there was a certain familiarity that was somehow more intimate even than the curl of Milliard's fingers around his shaft as they'd arched together so short a time before.

No, it wasn't love. But neither was it obligation nor duty nor simple surrender. As Milliard's kisses stirred renewed heat in the pit of his belly, Heero decided that it really didn't matter what it was, only that it was exactly what he needed.


End file.
